Back to the Beginning
by Rainia NyteWolf
Summary: Suppose for a moment, that Henry VIII decided to visit Katherine's bed a final time? How would history change if her prayers were at last answered and she became pregnant? AU, Henry/Anne
1. Prologue

Author's notes – I've been reading a lot of Tudor's fiction lately, and most of the time, the recurring theme is either Anne avoiding that final miscarriage and delivering a son or Katherine and Henry's son surviving infancy. I had a sudden thought about what would happen if Katherine's prayers for a son were finally answered. Yes, Anne will be in this story as I cannot leave her out. She's too important to both the plot and history. If you're interested in being a beta/sounding board for this story, please message me. Historically, Katherine (or Catherine) had six pregnancies, the last being an unnamed daughter. In this story, I've decided to give her a seventh and final one. This story probably takes place sometime in 1520, so it'll be a bit before Anne Boleyn is introduced as Henry didn't begin pursuing her until around 1525-26. It's unlikely Jane Seymour will be in this story, and you will see why. I mean no disrespect and if you see an idea that may have been yours, please let me know and I will give you credit where credit is due.

* * *

Queen Katherine knelt within the cool dimness of her private chapel, staring beseechingly at the image of the Blessed Virgin smiling serenely at her. The quiet click of the rosary beads moving through her fingers as she prayed were a soothing balm to her whirling thoughts. Could her prayers to God and before Mary finally being answered?

Her courses were long since due, and she knew her ladies were whispering that maybe she was too old to bear children. Something within her refused to believe this, and now she prayed that her instincts as a woman were right. Henry's bastard by Lady Blount proved he could sire a living son, and now as she prayed before the Virgin, she silently prayed that she could finally give him another. This time, she could not fail and she knew it.

Her husband hadn't been faithful to her for years, she knew this, and part of her knew that he was starting to believe he would never get a legitimate heir from her beyond her beloved daughter Mary. One hand slowly drifted to her stomach, pressing on it gently. _Please, God, let me finally give Henry the son we so long for, _she prayed fervently before crossing herself and rising. The midwife she had sent for discreetly was due any moment.

* * *

"Your Majesty." The woman before her curtsied low before the Queen, keeping her eyes lowered demurely. Katherine studied her a moment before nodding.

"Rise, young lady," She told her, motioning with a hand for the young woman to rise from her curtsy. "You are the midwife?"

"I am, my Lady. Mistress Parr told me you required a midwife?" The reply came hesitantly, unsure exactly why her services would be required. Everyone knew that the Queen hadn't had a successful pregnancy for years now so the woman was confused as to why she was here. King Henry had some of the finest physicians in England at his beck and call, so why would this great lady need the her humble services?

"That is correct, Mistress. I find myself in need of your services. I require your absolute discretion, the King can never know you were here," Katherine told her, her accent thickening as she warned the woman before her. "I trust a fellow woman in these matters rather than the royal physicians."

The woman nodded, dipping into a curtsy again. "Yes, Your Majesty. How may I serve you?"

Katherine inhaled deeply, glancing to where Mistress Parr stood a discreet distance away. At the other woman's encouraging smile, Katherine returned her gaze back to the midwife. "I need you to confirm if I'm with child."

* * *

A few weeks later, Henry and Katherine sat together in her chambers. Flames danced merrily on the hearth before them, and a veritable feast sat before them. Her ladies were spread throughout the room, within distance in case their sovereigns needed something from them. Henry had been quiet all though out dinner. He was clearly in a mood, Katherine noted, smiling to herself. Hopefully this would get him out of his dark mood.

"Henry?" She queried softly, attempting to draw his attention to her as subtly as she could.

"Hmmm?" Henry raised his gaze to meet her. "What is it sweetheart?"

Demurely, she lowered her gaze and took a sip of wine to steady her nerves. "I have some good news."

Henry didn't reply at first, and she wondered if he had heard her. His gaze locked on hers, narrowing his eyes slightly. Katherine had never been hesitant to tell him anything, and if this was good news like she claimed, he couldn't fathom why she was hesitating. "What is it?" He finally demanded, trying to control his temper.

"I'm with child."

Those three words seemed to take forever to penetrate Henry's brain but when they did, he genuinely didn't know how to react. He'd long since given up getting another child off Katherine and now, now he didn't know what to think. His mouth worked soundlessly for a number of moments before he finally found his voice again. "Truly?"

Katherine smiled that secretive smile she always reserved just for him. "I've had both a midwife and Dr. Lincare confirm. I am indeed with child."

* * *

Henry paced futilely in his presence chamber, reminiscent of a caged lion. Katherine had gone into labor earlier that morning and now it was nothing but waiting. Prayers fell from his lips absently, praying for a son, praying for his wife to survive, just praying at this point. He was sure if his court saw him they would think him mad, pacing around and muttering like a mad person. When the door opened abruptly, he whirled to face the frightened groom that had been sent to fetch him. "Your Majesty," the boy began before being cut off.

"Yes? What is it? What news?" Henry peppered the boy with questions, stalking towards him.

"Her Majesty is delivered of a son," the boy began, only to jump slightly in fright as Henry let out an almighty shout of joy ,"as well as a daughter."

The grin on Henry's face only seemed to get bigger as he hurried off to his wife's chambers, ignoring the groom. Courtiers backed out of his way as he quickly raced towards Katherine's rooms. "Congratulations to you, your Majesty," Charles Brandon called as he hurried to catch up with the king.

"Thank you Charles!" Henry replied, turning the full force of his grin on his best friend as they finally came upon Katherine's chambers.

Dr. Lincare greeted them as they arrived, with a low bow. "Your Majesty is to be congratulated on the birth of a healthy son and daughter."

"Thank you, Doctor. How fares the queen?" Henry queried, clapping the doctor on the back as he headed towards the inner chamber, not giving Lincare a chance to speak. As he entered, he noticed Katherine lying pale and almost still on the bed. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. Two of her maids were each holding an infant and both of them curtsied as best they could with the infants in their arms. Pulling a chair to Katherine's bed, he slowly sat and grasped her hand gently between his.

Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to look at him. "Henry…"

"Sweetheart, you've made me so proud!" He whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "What shall we call them?"

Katherine smiled weakly before her eyes fluttered shut once more. Her breathing slowly began to grow ragged, sending Henry into a panic. The maids, seeing what was happening, hurried to fetch Lincare. The physician ran into the room with his assistants following behind, even as Henry slowly fell to his knees from the chair, begging Katherine to stay with him.

The babies, which had been quiet until now, began to wail loudly. Henry remained weeping beside Katherine's bed, pleading her not to leave him now that she'd at last given him his son.


	2. Chapter One

Author's Notes – Holy Hera! I've seriously never had such a welcome reception in any fandom before! Even those of you who didn't review and simply chose to follow the story totally made my day. You guys (and gals) rock! Historically, Henry had two sisters, Mary and Margaret. Mary was the one who actually married Charles Brandon, not Margaret. I've decided to put both of them in the story, rather than just the one sister like they did on the show. I know they did it to avoid confusion with his daughter by Katherine, also Mary, but I like it better this way. This story isn't about Henry and Katherine; it's actually about him and Anne Boleyn. However, for the time being, it's going to reminisce about Henry's relationship with Katherine as he works through his grief. I still need a title, so help me out! Also, someone suggest some names for the babies!

Chapter One

Thomas More hesitated briefly as he entered the King's private chapel. Henry had refused to move from before the giant crucifix mounted on the wall since Katherine's untimely passing. The two infants she had bore were to be christened today, but it was evident to everyone at court Henry wanted nothing to do with either the children or the ceremony. Steeling himself, Thomas slowly approached his young pupil, remembering fondly the times Henry had looked to him for advice and comfort as young boy. Kneeling beside him, Thomas bowed his head in prayer briefly before looking at the king. Silent tears were tracing down Henry's face, dripping steadily onto the chapel floor. Wolsey had told More that the king had rebuffed any attempt the cardinal made to comfort him, even going so far as to yell at the older man to leave.

"Sire, if I may," Thomas began quietly, watching Henry for any sign of acknowledgement.

Henry did not move, still staring pleadingly at the image of Christ upon the cross. God had granted him his deepest wish and now the woman he loved was dead. Was this the price he had to pay in order for a healthy prince? Why would God grant them this boon only to take Katherine away from him? Why, why, why?

More sighed quietly before resting a hand on Henry's shoulder in an effort to rouse the king's attention, "The children are to be christened today, Majesty. Do you not wish to see them?"

Red-rimmed eyes finally pried themselves away from the image of Christ and found Thomas' sympathetic gaze. "I cannot," He finally said, voice rough from crying and disuse. "I cannot fathom to even look at them, Thomas. What kind of father am I, to not even be able to gaze upon his own children?"

Thomas didn't know what to say. His own wife had been safely delivered of all their children and he thanked God every day for it. He couldn't imagine the pain Henry must be in now. His young pupil had never been what you would call a faithful husband, but that was his right as king and no one could tell him differently. "Your Majesty…"

"I cannot do it, Thomas." He had never heard his king pleading but that was exactly what he was hearing now. "Please, don't make me." The king dissolved into fresh tears, and would have collapsed if not for Mores' quick reflexes. Thomas held the younger man as he wept for the loss of his wife, unable to say or do anything to make things right.

* * *

Mary Tudor, younger sister of Henry VIII, entered Ludlow castle with a heavy heart. Queen Katherine had died a few short days ago, while giving birth to the future Prince of Wales and another daughter. Seeing the state her brother was in had convinced her that she needed to be the one to go tell her niece, Princess Mary, the news about her beloved mother. The young ladies who attended her niece curtsied as she passed, headed towards a small presence chamber where the younger girl would be brought to her by her governess.

She had just settled herself into a chair, smoothing her skirts about her, when the doors opened and Lady Salisbury entered. Young Mary was by her side, looking somber in her little black mourning gown. Salisbury curtsied to her, which Mary returned with a nod. "Lady Salisbury."

"Your Highness," The older woman greeted courteously. "Your niece, Princess Mary, as you requested."

"Thank you, Lady Salisbury, you may leave us," Mary replied with a wave of dismissal. The older woman nodded, curtsied again and exited the chamber; leaving the two Mary's alone.

"Come here, Mary," She told the young girl, who stepped closer to her aunt. Mary leaned down to look at the young girl, watching her face curiously. "Do you know why I'm here, niece?"

"Yes, Aunt Mary, I do," was the quiet reply, dark eyes finding the older woman's with a casual ease. "You're here to tell me my mama has gone to heaven."

Mary reared back, completely startled. Her niece's ladies all knew about Katherine but she knew they would never have told her without the king's consent, which had not been given to them. Before she could speak, the younger girl spoke again.

"I saw her, Aunt Mary. She came to me and told me that she had to go to heaven with Jesus and that papa would need me to be a big girl and help take care of my brother and sister." Mary stared at her aunt as the older woman paled slightly. "Was that bad?"

Her aunt shook her head, leaning forward once more with tears in her eyes to embrace the young girl who had lost her mother too soon, just like she had. "No, sweetheart, that wasn't bad at all."


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Notes – Look at me, two chapters in one day! I'm spoiling you people, especially since I've only gotten 5 reviews, but over 200 views. Come on people, give me some encouragement! I've decided to name the children Katherine bore in the prologue Edmund and Joanna. Edmund is the name of Henry's grandfather, the father of Henry VII. Joanna is the name of Katherine of Aragon's sister, the mother of Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor. Also, I'm not religious and as I have no idea what a christening ceremony would have entailed, I'm not writing it. Sorry for disappointing anyone. Also, the dialogue between Thomas Boleyn and Henry was taken from the show

Chapter Two

Prior to Katherine's death, Wolsey had begun to gently push the idea of making an alliance with France. The queen, being Spanish in origin, had disliked the idea immensely as it meant her beloved daughter would have to be betrothed to the French Dauphin. Henry had seemed willing to the idea before her death and now as he slowly emerged from his mourning, Wolsey took it upon himself to try again with the idea. "Majesty, if I may," He began carefully, glancing to where Thomas More stood not a few feet from him.

"Yes?" Henry demanded, sounding impatient as always. The murder of his uncle in France had snapped him out of his depression briefly and now he was chomping at the bit for war. Wars meant higher taxes, which meant unhappy subjects and this was the last thing this fledgling monarchy needed.

"We have come up with a new treaty, one of Perpetual Peace." Thomas More stated glancing at Wolsey as the two men let the king absorb that.

Henry nodded slowly, not quite willing to give up the idea of war just yet. "And what would this treaty include?"

"The betrothal of your eldest daughter, Mary, to the French Dauphin, permanently allying yourself with France against the Emperor," Wolsey replied cautiously, trying his best not to let any sign of hope enter his voice or eyes.

"Wars are expensive, your Highness, and we believe that this would solve the desires of both your Majesties," More injected, watching Henry carefully as the king digested these words.

"No wars? No glory?" Henry couldn't help but let his disappointment show, frowning at both his most trusted advisors.

"Sire, we believe that this treaty will be a benefit to both England and France as well as allow you to go down in history as the first country to sign a treaty of eternal and perpetual peace," Wolsey replied quickly, seizing his chance. The king wanted war to be able to go down in history, but if he agreed to the treaty, he would go down in history as well.

Thomas Boleyn studied the chess board that sat between him and the king. Henry had summoned him for an audience, regarding a treaty between England and France. The two men were locked in their game of chess when Henry spoke. "Tell me about King Francis, Sir Thomas."

Boleyn looked up from the board at his sovereign's words. "He's 23 years old."

"Is he tall?" Henry queried, moving one of his chess pieces on the board.

"Yes. But ill-proportioned," Came the older man's reply as he too moved a piece on the board in response to Henry's move.

"What of his legs? Are his calves as strong like mine?" Henry demanded, frowning slightly at the board in thought before making his next move.

Thomas laughed quietly at the thought. "Your Majesty, no one has calves like yours," he replied swiftly, lest the king think he was laughing at him before once more countering the king's move.

"Is he handsome?" He queried, glancing at Boleyn as he asked and promptly countered the other man's move.

"Some people think so," Boleyn agreed casually, considering his next move carefully. "He certainly thinks so himself."

"Is he vain?"

With an amused laugh, Thomas nodded. "Your Majesty, he's French!"

The two men shared a hearty laugh at the thought of the vain French king, the chess game forgotten between them.

Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, approached the sound of feminine chatter and laughter with a smile. As he rounded the corner, his wife's ladies curtsied to him and smiled, backing away to give the Duke and Duchess a measure of privacy. "Charles," Mary's smile and genuine happy tone warmed him considerably and he bowed low, bestowing a gentle kiss on his wife's hand before rising and kissing her on the cheek.

"Hello, sweetheart," He replied, once again unable to believe that this woman was his wife. He, the son of standard bearer and she a Princess of England!

"Walk with me?" She requested with another smile, gesturing to the wide gardens in which he had found her and her ladies.

"Of course, my love," He replied without hesitation, offering her his arm gallantly. When she took it, he led her further into the gardens with the ladies following behind the couple.

"How fares my brother, the King?" Mary questioned lowly, not wanting her ladies to overhear whatever was said between the two of them.

Charles hesitated briefly before shrugging slightly. "He seems to finally have stopped mourning, but you and I both know that could change. He's in talks to make an alliance with France again, this time betrothing the Princess Mary to the Dauphin."

Mary shook her head slightly at the thought. The last time there was an alliance with France, she had been the one to marry Francis' father, Louis XII. Two months into the marriage, Louis died and Charles had been sent to retrieve her and her dowry. They had married in secret at first, and they were still paying Henry back her dowry that he had demanded in return for them being allowed to marry. "Katherine would be devastated at the thought."

He nodded his agreement, knowing all too well how much the late Queen had disliked the French. "I believe she'd be more disappointed that Henry has yet to visit Prince Edmund and Princess Joanna."

How could he still not have visited them? Mary thought to herself wonderingly. Yes, Katherine had died bringing them into the world, but she couldn't fathom the thought of her brother not wanting to see his children. Especially considering Edmund was his heir! As if he could read her mind, Charles nodded grimly. "I know. I don't understand how he couldn't see his own children either."


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Notes – Thanks to my newest reviewers, Guest and Hanna. I'm glad the idea of Mary seeing Katherine was well received. Failed to De-Anon – Yes, someone is going to talk him into seeing his children, I hope you like who I decided to finally get him to do so. I'm keeping Compton alive in this story, just because I liked him in the show. I'm skipping doing the meeting at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and fast forwarding a couple years. Anne and the Emperor will be introduced next chapter. I hope I've done justice with this chapter, and that this satisfies everyone :) Still need name for this story people, help me out

* * *

It had been five years as of today that the great Queen Katherine had died. The whole court knew when the day was approaching, as their king would slowly begin retreating into himself. No masques were performed, he hardly ate in the great hall and as the day approached, he began to get more and more temperamental. Mary had begged him to talk to her brother, for the young prince and princess' sake. Charles rubbed a hand over his face as he slowly approached the king's privy chamber. Henry received letters of course, informing him of the children's progress and health, but the only one he ever saw was Mary.

His name was announced as he approached the heavy doors and after a brief moment, they were opened to allow him admittance. He nodded at the herald and the groom that showed him to the antechamber within. Henry sat upon his throne on the raised dais, not even looking up as his oldest friend entered and bowed low before him. Blue eyes were unfocused, gazing at nothing and the king seemed lost in thought.

Rising slowly from his bow, Charles coughed discreetly, trying to get his friend's attention without being rude. Henry continued to ignore him, never once making a move to even look at him. "Excuse me, your Majesty?" He finally queried, breaking the eerie silence that had befallen the chamber.

Finally, Henry blinked and looked around at Charles, seeming startled to see his friend and brother-in-law standing before him, looking quizzical. Shaking his head ruefully, he forced a smile at his eldest friend. "My apologies, Charles, I didn't hear your arrival."

Deciding against mentioning that he'd been announced and that obviously the king had agreed for him to appear before him, the Duke of Suffolk simply nodded. "I must speak with you, Henry."

"Of course, Charles," Henry readily agreed, rising and moving forward to embrace the older man. "How fares my sister?"

As always, at the mention of his beloved Mary, Brandon couldn't help the soft smile that stole across his face. "Mary is well, Majesty, and sends her love."

The king smiled at that and the fact that, while Charles was not the royal suitor he had intended his sister for, at least they were happy. Like he and Katherine once were. His visage darkened in misery again at the thought of his late wife.

Noting the look on his friends face, Charles cleared his throat to get Henry's attention once more. "As I've said, Majesty, I must speak with you."

Shaking his head, Henry beckoned the other man over to a table where he sat before motioning for Charles to do the same. "Yes, so you've said," the king agreed as the duke took his seat. "Speak, Charles, I've never known you to hold your tongue."

A steward came forward, bearing a ewer of wine. At the king's nod, the young man poured them both a cup of wine before retreating a short distance. Grateful for the minor distraction, Charles raised his glass to Henry in a toast. The other man mimicked the action before both drank. Setting his glass down, Brandon took a deep breath before beginning. "Mary has asked me to beseech you, on the love you bear for her, to go to Ludlow and see your children."

Henry slowly lowered his glass, looking at Charles over the rim before fully lowering it to the table. His eyes clouded over with grief at the thought that, but for the youngest princess and his prince (his prince!), Katherine would still be with him. "I cannot, Charles," He finally spoke, his tone hoarse as he refused to meet his friend's eyes. "I cannot bear to look upon them and know what the birth of my prince cost me."

Charles scrubbed a hand across his face once more, wishing once more that Mary had not asked him to do this. He could deny his wife very little, and she knew it. They had defied her brother in order to marry, risking death at the executioner's block because they could no longer ignore the feelings they had for one another. "Katherine would not want you to blame the children for her passing," He reminded his friend gently.

Logically, Henry knew Charles was right. Katherine would be ashamed to see the way he was acting, refusing to even hear their names as the memory of losing their mother was far too great. He wanted to be angry with his friend for his words but could not find it within himself to be angry. His kingdom mourned with him when he lost Katherine but now, even Wolsey was trying to find a way to suggest that he remarry without incurring the king's wrath. With a sigh, Henry unconsciously mimicked the earlier actions of his friend and ran a hand over his face. "You're right, Charles, of course. That would be the last thing she would want."

* * *

Lady Salisbury could scarcely believe her ears when a maid ran into the nursery to inform her that the king's standard bearers had been spotted heading towards Ludlow. Since the young prince and princess had been born, the king hadn't seen them. Rumor had it that the king could not bear the sight of them, as they were a constant reminder of the loss of the queen. Dismissing the lady with orders to have the children ready for their father's arrival, she hurried towards the entry hall with as much dignity as she could muster.

"His Majesty, the King! His Majesty, the King!" the heralds cried and just as she finished smoothing her skirts about her, the doors opened and the king entered, followed by a small retinue.

Salisbury curtsied low and gracefully, only rising when Henry motioned for her to. "Your Majesty, welcome to Ludlow."

"Thank you, Lady Salisbury." Henry replied, glancing around and nodding approvingly. "I have come to see my children."

Edmund Tudor tried not to fidget in his finery, knowing Lady Salisbury would have a stiff rebuke for him if he embarrassed himself. Joanna was brought in to wait with him and even though she was his sister, he had to admit she was pretty. Not like the ladies that served his aunt Mary, never _that _pretty, but pretty nonetheless. She stood straight and proud beside him, her hands clutched nervously before her. Neither of them had met their father, the king, but their elder sister Mary had. She stood slightly behind them, dressed in a gown of black damask trimmed with gold. The governess had wanted Mary to go first, as the eldest, but she had gracefully declined and insisted that her younger siblings should be presented to their father fist.

Lady Eleanor entered the room and looked the three siblings over with a smile. "Alright, children, it's time. Follow me," she instructed, before turning and leading them into the privy chamber that had been put to use for the children to be presented to the king.

They followed obediently, and Edmund found himself struck with a sudden case of nerves. What if their papa didn't like them? He knew that mama had gone to heaven when he and Joanna were born. Did papa blame them for mama going away forever? Was that why he'd never visited until now? His hands shook slightly as the door to the privy chamber opened and they were lead inside. Lady Eleanor curtsied before the king before stepping aside and letting the children be brought into view.


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Notes – Finally, Emperor Charles and Anne Boleyn will be making their entrances this chapter. After this little blurb with Henry and his children, it'll fast forward a couple months. The masque which Anne participates in during the show was for the ambassadors to the emperor, so now it'll be for Charles himself. This is AU in the extreme, as was the show. Also, I don't know if Charles was referred to as His Excellency, but that's what I'm going with to avoid confusion with Wolsey, who is addressed as His Holiness. Some quotes during the masque were taken directly from Episode 1.03

* * *

The moment Henry dismissed the ladies who had escorted the children into the room and the children were beckoned to come closer, Joanna let out a terrified wail. Sobbing hysterically, she whirled around and promptly buried her face into the skirts of her older sister, Mary. Edmund froze as their father leapt from his throne and hurried toward them, falling to his knees to be eye level with his youngest daughter. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?" he asked gently, trying to turn the little girl to face him with no avail. Mary leaned down, whispering words of nonsensical comfort to try and get the girl to at least tell them what was wrong.

Finally, between heaving sobs, words could be heard falling from the young girl's lips. "W-w-we d-d-didn't mean to!" she wailed into her sister's skirts, unwilling to look at her father.

Henry's gaze met Mary's for a moment, both of them clearly at a loss as to what the little girl was talking about. "Didn't mean to do what, Joanna?" Mary finally asked kindly, rubbing her sister's back soothingly like Lady Salisbury used to do for her when she was upset.

"T-t-to m-m-make m-m-mama g-g-go to h-h-heaven!" was the wailed reply, the young girl still unwilling to look at either of her siblings and most especially her father.

Henry almost felt the blood drain from his face at Joanna's words and he rocked back onto his heels in stunned silence. His eyes met those of his beloved little prince, who looked back at him fearfully before dropping his gaze to his twin. Mary, for one, was shocked that Joanna knew their mother had died to give birth to her and little Edmund. She was aware they knew their mother had died but didn't even for a moment think that her young siblings would think they caused Katherine's death!

"Joanna, sweetheart, come here." Henry finally spoke softly, gently prying her away from her sister. The young girl turned to him, still sobbing but not quite so hysterically, "You as well, Edmund." Both children reluctantly approached their father, standing side by side before him. "Look at me, the both of you."

The red rimmed eyes of his youngest daughter and the scared eyes of his son caused his heart to break anew. Could they really believe he hated them? He hadn't seen them since they were born; the day Katherine had left him and this world to give him the prince he had so longed for. Now, it was obvious he'd made a mistake, never having seen the young twins until now. Katherine herself would be horrified at the thought of him avoiding their children, and would not have hesitated to rebuke him for it. "Neither one of you are to blame for your Mama going to heaven. She wanted you as much as I did and loved you even before you were born." Henry told them, gazing between the two of them. "I'm sorry that I haven't come to see you until now, but I plan on making up for that."

Joanna sniffled quietly, her tears slowly dissolving. "You pwomise?" she asked childishly, her voice still rough with tears. "You don't hate us?"

Her words felt like a knife, going right to his heart. Shaking his head, Henry impulsively reached out and pulled them both into a hug, first kissing the top of his daughter's curls then his son's head. "No, sweetheart, I could never hate you." He choked out, feeling his own eyes glaze over with tears as Mary knelt down and joined the embrace.

* * *

"Your Excellency," Thomas More greeted warmly, bowing low to the Emperor, who returned the bow with a slightly shallower one than Thomas'. "Welcome to Greenwich Palace."

"Thank you, Sir Thomas." The Spaniard replied, smiling faintly as they fell into step beside each other. "Tell me, how fares the king?"

"His Majesty is well and sends his love. He would have greeted you himself, but he's playing a crucial role in the masque we are holding in your honor." Thomas replied, leading the man known as the Holy Roman Emperor into the hall where the masque was to be performed. A great green castle was set up towards the end of the hall, to allow all the courtiers a view of the masque.

"And how fare my nieces and nephew, the Prince and Princesses?" He queried as he was led to the seat of honor, nodding approvingly as he sat. Thomas waited until he was settled before sitting himself.

"They are very well, Holiness. His Majesty recently brought them to court, so you will be able to meet them, "Thomas told him as the hall began to fill with courtiers who were going to be watching the masque as well.

Trumpets sounded as women dressed in black and women dressed in white entered the hall, all of which wore sashes proclaiming various things, from "Vanity" to "Perseverance." Charles watched curiously as they filed in, taking their places in the castle. "Who are they?" He questioned, glancing at More and motioning to the women in the castle.

"They are the graces, your Holiness. They have names like Kindness, Honor, Constance, Mercy and Pity. They are prisoners in the castle. The figure to the left, under the broken hearts is His Majesty's sister, Princess Mary." Thomas elaborated, gesturing to where the former Queen of France stood.

"Who is keeping them prisoner?" The Emperor questioned, nodding at More's observations.

"Danger, Jealousy, Unkindness, Scorn, Disdain, Strangeness." He replied, gesturing to the ladies clad in black dresses.

"And the King is amongst them, you said?"

Thomas nodded, gesturing to where a group of men were entering the hall, led by William Cornish. "The men represent Youth, Devotion, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness, and Liberty. And yes, his Majesty is indeed amongst them."

Cornish stepped forward, brandishing a wooden sword at the lady whose sash read Unkindness. "As Ardent Desire, I command you to release your prisoners!" he commanded loudly.

"And as Lady Scorn, I laugh in the face of your Desire!" Another lady denounced, laughing haughtily.

"You give us no choice but to attack and breach your defenses!" Cornish commanded, once more brandishing his sword.

A lady clad in black with a sash that read 'Unkindness,' snickered before replying, "No knight shall ever breach mine."

Jeers from the courtiers met the double entendre and both Charles and More bit back smiles as Cornish replied, "Lady, Desire overcomes all!"

The gentlemen hurried forward, breaching the fake battlements with ease and chasing the black clad ladies away. Henry dashed up the stair case to a lady and was instantly captured by her dark eyes meeting his dead on, rather than lowering demurely. "Perseverance, you are my prisoner now," he breathed, utterly enraptured by the beautiful woman before him.

She simply smiled and retreated down the stairs with him following close behind. The musicians struck up a tune as they gentlemen and ladies each formed a line facing the other. Curtsies and bows were exchanged and the dance began. "Who are you?" Henry questioned, having arranged to dance with the lovely woman who played Perseverance.

She gazed at him from under dark lashes before replying, "Anne. Anne Boleyn."


	6. Chapter Five

Author's Notes – I'm seriously messing with the time line here. In this story, Henry's daughter Mary, was born in 1512 not 1516, which means Edmund and Joanna are born in early 1519. Now, we're in 1522 which is when Anne really did participate in the masque mentioned last chapter. If there are no objections, I will likely have Mary marrying Charles V, the Emperor and her first cousin, as she was originally intended to do in real life. Currently, Mary is 11 and the twins 4. Does anyone object to Compton/Tallis slash? No kids in this chapter, next chapter will see Mary preparing to go to Spain to wed Charles V.

* * *

_"Seduce me."_

Henry awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed and panting heavily, Anne's voice echoing in his head. The dream had been so real, the evidence of which was now cooling rapidly at his groin. As soon as she'd said her name during the masque, he'd known exactly who she was. Her sister, Mary, had been bragged about to him by Francis as the other man's 'English Mare'. The young woman had indeed been pleasant in bed, but he'd tired of her quickly, as he had with all the women he'd taken to bed since Katherine's death. This Boleyn girl, however, would not be such an easy conquest it seemed.

Throwing himself back on the bed, he sighed in frustration. The words from the dream came back to him unbidden as he willed himself to return to sleep. She wanted to be seduced, eh? Well, he could do that. He'd seduced a great many women, seducing one more shouldn't be nearly as difficult. A small smile graced his lips as he settled back down and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Why don't we just go around it?" William Compton suggests from atop his horse, glancing at his friend Anthony Knivert before returning his attention to the king. Henry had requested them to go riding with him, which both men knew wasn't so much a request as a demand for company. The king had been perplexed when a servant of the Boleyn's had returned the jewels he'd sent the Lady Anne, with a letter from her stating that she was unworthy of such a gift. To cheer Henry up, both men had agreed and now, a good way into their ride, they'd come across a small stagnant pond.

The king dismounted his horse and tossed his reins to the groom that followed the three men. "I bet I can jump over it," he boasted, picking up a good sized branch from the ground and testing his weight against it.

"Majesty," Knivert began hesitantly, knowing full well how volatile Henry's temper was and not wanting to insult his friend and sovereign. The young king ignored both men and proceeded to sprint towards the pond. Jamming the branch firmly in the ground, he began to vault himself over it. The branch breaks with a sickening crack and the king proceeds to fall headfirst into the water.

Sharing a look, Compton and Knivert began to laugh heartily, seeing the king's legs kicking frantically at the air. When the groom rushes forward in a panic, both men quickly stop laughing and hurriedly dismount and run forward to help the groom rescue Henry.

* * *

_Perhaps you don't understand but I can't sleep, I can hardly breathe for thinking of you. Your image is before my eyes every waking second. I almost believe I would sacrifice my kingdom for an hour in your arms. I beg you name some place that we can meet and when, where I can show you truly an affection which is beyond common affection .Written with the hand of your servant, Henry."_

Anne smiles softly at the letter, fingering the necklace that had come with it. She'd sent the jewels he'd originally given her back, knowing all too well what it would look like if she accepted them. It was unseemly for an unmarried lady to accept jewels from any man who was not her husband and she definitely didn't want to end up like her sister, Mary. The young woman had found herself as mistress for King Francis I and then for a brief time, Henry himself, before being cast aside both times. She'd finally found herself married to a knight, one William Carey and was now the mother of two children.

She would not let that happen to her. Their father had been furious at the thought of her marrying Henry Percy, and had been grateful to Cardinal Wolsey for breaking the betrothal, if grudgingly, due to his hated for the man. Now, it seemed, her father was more than willing not to just push her into the king's bed but possibly onto the throne held by the late Queen Katherine! Anne had been horrified to discover George had told their father about the letters from the king. She did not want to be queen, why could none of them see this? Her father, brother and uncle were all beginning to plot how she could best be set before the king and none of them even bothered to ask her what she wanted.

Was it really so bad to want a simple life, a life of her own, a life away from the machinations of court and her family?

* * *

From his position in bed, Henry glares impatiently at Wolsey. "I almost died, don't you understand? And what if I had died? What would I have left? My son is far too young to become king and Mary could not possibly become queen before her brother! I have been such a fool. Now everything has changed. It's become clear to me I must remarry and give England another heir, should the worst happen to myself or the Prince of Wales. "

Thomas Wolsey bows politely before his king, his mind whirling in triumph. He'd been trying to convince the king to remarry for some time now. "I am, of course, Your Majesty's humble servant," he replies smoothly as he rises from his bow. Henry impatiently waves a hand, curtly dismissing his advisor with a grimace.

The latest gift he'd sent to Anne, a necklace this time, had not been returned but she had not responded to his letter. The last time he'd seen her, he'd found himself in a jealous rage upon seeing her with another gentleman. He'd asked her for an audience in a deserted corridor, which she had granted him. Unable to help himself, he'd foolishly professed his love and desire for her before asking about the gentleman he'd seen her with. Upon her reply that it was only her brother, George, the jealousy he'd felt had vanished and he'd kissed her but she'd pushed him away and hurried off. Both Compton and Knivert found him a short time later, teasing him gently by asking about her.

Henry sighs to himself, relaxing as thoughts of Anne enter his mind. Shortly before his accident, when she'd returned the jewels, she informed him through the letter she'd sent that she would be returning to her family estate and again insisting that she was unworthy of his affection. When he felt better, he'd go to Hever Castle himself and talk with her about making her his maîtres' en titre, he decided with a nod to himself.


	7. Chapter Six

Author's Notes – So we're finally getting somewhere with Henry and Anne's relationship. I think I'll have him propose to her in a couple chapters, after some more plot development. Also, parts of the dialogue in this chapter were taken from episode 1.05. Brandon may seem OOC from the way he was portrayed in the show, but I like to think that the real Brandon and Mary Tudor were really in love. After all, they did defy a king to be able to marry. I wrote a little one shot called Memories, which is a spin-off of this story where Mary saw Katherine after her death.

Mary Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk and former Queen of France, stared in awe at the tiny bundle the midwife had presented her with mere moments after her ladies helped her into clean clothing. The little baby boy – her baby boy! – stared up at her curiously, his murky blue eyes already beginning to darken. With gently, trembling fingers she traced her baby's face only to gasp in utter delight when a tiny hand grasped her finger and held on tight. The infant yawned widely, showing pink toothless gums as he held onto his mother's finger. "Look at him, Charles," she breathed, utterly enraptured by the baby boy in her arms. "Look how perfect he is!"

Having been ushered out of the room when his wife went into labor, Charles was almost scared to enter now that it was all over. The midwife had brought him the news of his son's birth and that both mother and son were fine, which was all he was really concerned about. Mary's hair was down about her shoulders, a few stray strands sticking to her forehead and as he observed his wife and newborn son for the first time, he found he'd never loved her more. When she glanced up from their son, their eyes met and Charles couldn't help the silly grin that came over his face. Slowly, so as not to startle the infant in his wife's arms, he made his way to the bed. Was this how Henry had felt when his sons were born, the young princes that hadn't survived and the one who had? He'd never been more scared in his life at the thought of fatherhood when Mary had announced her pregnancy.

Henry had congratulated him, making him promise to name the child after him if it was a boy, but he'd noted the look that had entered his friend's eyes. He knew all too well what Henry had been thinking, about how the last time Katherine had been pregnant she'd died giving him the son he'd so desperately wanted. The bed dips under his weight as he settles beside Mary to gaze down at the little boy in his wife's arms. He had a son, he marveled, still not quite able to believe his eyes. "What shall we call him?" Mary finally asks after a few moments of silence, the both of them watching their little boy.

"We shall call him Henry, for your brother, the king," he replied almost immediately. Even had Henry not-so-politely demanded it of him, he'd have named his son after the king without hesitation. The knowledge that both he and Mary were lucky to escape the headsman for marrying was still fresh, and he knew it would have satisfied the king to have his nephew named after him. Charles could never forget that he'd committed high treason to marry the woman he loved and part of him doubted that Henry would ever let the two of them forget it.

"Henry, of course," Mary agreed with a nod, smiling down at the now sleeping infant. "Welcome to the world, my little Harry."

Anne Boleyn stared in mute horror at her king, unable to conceive of what he was asking her. He couldn't be serious! She was _not _going to be like her sister, used and discarded before being married off to the first person her father could find to take her off his hands. Had she had her way, even now, she'd be married to Henry Percy and living a simple life away from the court. His official mistress indeed! "What have I done to make you treat me like this?" her voice comes out softer than she had intended, but the words have the desired effect. Henry stares at her, utterly silent as she continues. "Your majesty, I have already given my maidenhead into my husband's hands. And whoever he is, only he will have it. I'm all too aware of how it goes otherwise. My sister is called the great prostitute by everyone!" Her voice breaks at the mention of how everyone knows her sister and she averts her gaze from the king.

"I feel I must apologize for having offended you, then," Henry replies after a moment, struggling to control his temper. "I spoke only out of love for you." With that, he bows slightly to her before storming off to head back to Whitehall. She was infuriating, that one! He'd bestowed the tittle of Lord Rochford on her father, hoping to earn a place in her good graces and now she'd turned down the offer to be his mistress! With a scowl, he stalks over to his horse and launches himself into his saddle. With an impatient tug to the reins, he turns his horse around and spurs his mount towards Whitehall.

Thomas Tallis walks through the dark corridors beneath Whitehall leading to the servant's quarters where he was lodged. Lit torches flicker gently along the walls and he's almost startled as William Compton steps out from behind a pillar. "Say yes."

With a shake of his head, Thomas turns around and begins to walk away. A few short moments later, Compton once again steps in front of him.

"Say yes." He says again, staring at Thomas with something akin to longing in his eyes.

"No," he replies, shaking his head at the lord standing before him.

"Why?" Compton replies, stepping towards him. They are uncomfortably close now, and Thomas' heart beats loud and fast in his ears.

"Because I do not love you," Tallis replies, fighting the urge to step away from Will. "You are a lord, and what am I?"

The other man searches his face with dark eyes, unable to believe what he's hearing. "Beautiful," he finally replies, leaning in and kissing the other man, silently thrilled when Thomas does not pull away


	8. Chapter Seven

Author's Notes – My apologies about the wait. Real life is a pain sometimes. This was a difficult chapter to write, as I wanted to pay particular attention to the mysterious sweating sickness. To this day, no one knows how exactly it came to be. Next chapter will include Henry and Anne's reunion as well as Anne finally meeting the kids. That one should be interesting to write. When Henry tells the physician to go to Anne, I used to the wording from the show. As always, I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to read and review!

Disclaimer – Don't own, don't sue.

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The sweat struck with the swiftness of the deadliest assassin. No one seemed to know where it had come from but the instant one person got it, another became infected. People were dying left and right, unable to battle this strange and deadly disease. When news came from London that the deadly plague had reached there, Henry began to panic. The children were instantly sent away to Hatfield, where his physician's had assured him was the best place for them to be to avoid the possibility of catching this contagion. The court was disbanded, for fear of the close quarters everyone shared bringing the sickness to the king.

Anne had returned to court at Henry's request and it was at his request now that she was being sent back to her familial estate in Kent, Hever Castle. Henry had not come to see her off, instead choosing to lock himself in his chambers with various herbs and poultices to try and stave off the sweat. Anne sighed to herself as she was helped into the carriage, settling opposite of her father. Thomas Boleyn smiled slightly, pleased that the king had been considerate enough to send them away, for fear of the deadly sweat. Clearly, the king was still infatuated with his daughter and all the better for him. Now, as the newly created Lord Rochford, he was a peer of the kingdom. No longer simply a knight, but a Lord! The thought of his new title made him smile inwardly, wishing dearly his beloved Elizabeth was still alive to see this day.

His musings on how to continue to push Anne into the king's heart and bed were interrupted by Anne herself. She was paler than normal and was desperately fanning herself as they approached Hever. "Are you quite alright, sweetheart?" He queried, worried for his daughter but more worried for himself and what would happen to their family if something happened to her.

The fan wasn't helping. Anne impatiently tosses it to the side, ignoring her father's words and now stunned look. "Stop the carriage!" she cried, the tell-tale sense of dread over coming her. Obediently, the driver halted the horses and she flung herself out the carriage door. Sweat broke out along her forehead as she pulled her bejeweled hood from her hair, sobbing as she realized she'd caught the sweat.

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A page had died right before his eyes. Henry still couldn't believe just how close he'd come to catching the dreaded sweat. The instant the young lad's body had been taken away he'd closed himself to his room, pacing like a caged lion. Exercise would keep the sweat away, Dr. Linacre assured him, so he continued to constantly walk around the massive bed and the small presence chamber attached to his room. A hesitant knock at the door made him spin around impatiently. "Yes, what is it?" he yelled, fearing to get too close to the door in case the person on the other side was sick.

The great heavy door swung open and a messenger entered, looking positively grim. "Your Majesty, I have a message from Lord Rochford."

Dread filled him at those words as the young man continued saying that Mistress Anne had caught the sweat and was not expected to survive. 'No! Not Anne, not my beloved!' He silently screamed to himself. Losing Katherine so soon after she'd finally, finally given him his longed for prince had nearly killed him. What would he do if Anne did not survive? How could he possibly survive her death? "Send for Dr. Linacre!" He finally ordered, pointing towards the door the man, who bowed low and turned to do as the king ordered.

When the physician showed up moments later, Henry was instantly at the older man's side. "The Lady Anne is sick, go at once to Hever Castle and for the love of God save her life," he told the man urgently.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Linacre replied with a bow, sending a silent prayer that he would not fail his king again. He'd done everything he knew how to try and save Queen Katherine and none of it had worked. Now, he was to try and save the life of another woman Henry loved dearly. '_Please, oh God, do not let me fail in this._'

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Thomas held a rag steeped in vinegar and herbs to his mouth and nose as he gently sponged sweat off William's forehead. The other man tossed restlessly on the bed, muttering vaguely as the sweat made him oblivious to his lover's presence. The doctors had wanted to bleed him, but Thomas had refused to let them. They had left when Thomas had finally snapped that he would take care of Will himself. There was no way he was going to let the other man die, not on his watch.

Compton's common-law wife had died when the doctor's had bled her. He'd watched as servants with rags tied around their mouths had carried her corpse out of the grand estate that the king had granted Will with to be buried with the other victims of the sweat.

Shifting to kneel beside the bed, Thomas fingered his rosary beads with one hand, silently praying for God to have mercy and let William survive this terrible sickness. Head bowed, silent tears traced his face as he prayed, beseeching both the Virgin Mary and God to intercede.

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Thomas Boleyn knelt outside of his daughters chambers, head bowed over his rosary beads as he prayed for what seemed like the hundredth time, but undoubtedly was much more than that. George knelt beside him, silently telling his beads as they both prayed for Anne to recover. Dr. Linacre was not optimistic about her chances but Anne was otherwise healthy, and Thomas saw no reason why his daughter could not survive where so many had died from this dreaded plague. When the door opened suddenly, he looked up anxiously from his prayers.

"It seems as if the Lady will recover, my lord," Linacre told him, motioning to the bed where Anne lay propped against a number of pillows, pale and wan but undoubtedly alive.

George met his father's eyes briefly before both men stood and rushed to the young woman's side. "Praise God!" he breathed, grabbing his sister's hand and kissing it.

"You've survived! Do you know what this means?" Thomas enthused happily, completely ignoring his son in favor of his daughter. "Now you can go back to the king!"


	9. Chapter Eight

Author's Notes – I'm sorry I've neglected this story so badly! I've just been so into my other story, The Definition of Love, that it couldn't be helped. I hope this chapter satisfies you all. A note on Anne's character – Many portray her as being heartless and cruel, but I could not honestly picture her being that way in this story, especially to two little children.

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"You're not my mama."

The defiant little voice made Anne spin around, her gaze meeting that of her future step-son and Prince of Wales, Edmund. Blue eyes glared defiantly at her, almost daring her to reprimand him for his arrogance. After she'd recovered from the dreadful sweating sickness, Henry had made his intentions to marry her known. The first step, he'd told her excitedly, was to meet her future step-children. The Princess Mary had set sail for Spain and within the year, she would marry her cousin the Holy Roman Emperor. That just left the twins, Edmund and Joanna, for her to meet. Joanna had accepted her gracefully, if a little wary of the woman who would soon become the next Queen of England.

"I know I'm not your mother, Edmund," Anne told him softly, bending at the knee to look more directly at the young prince. While Joanna was like her father in looks, if not personality, Edmund was definitely Katherine's son and most assuredly, it seemed, had his father's great temper.

The young prince hadn't liked the idea of a step-mother from the start. His father had brought her here to meet them, telling both he and Joanna to behave before leaving them all alone in order to become better acquainted. "Good," he told her imperiously, chin lifting arrogantly. This woman would never be his mama and at least she seemed to realize that.

"I'd like to be your friend, Edmund. Can we be friends? Your father wants us to all get along," she coaxed gently, wondering if she offered her friendship to the little boy before her would help their relationship. She'd never be Katherine, this was true. Just as if her father had remarried upon her mother's death, that woman would never be Elizabeth Howard. She liked to think that even had her father remarried, she'd have at least been friendly with the woman.

Gazing at her doubtfully, Edmund considered it carefully. He knew his papa wanted him to like their new step-mama, but something about her just didn't seem right to him. Why did she want to marry his papa, anyway? "You're not marrying papa just because you'd be queen, are you?" he finally asked, voice small. "Mary said that a lot of women wanted to marry papa because he's the king and they wanted to take mama's place as his queen. That would make you very bad."

Anne's heart broke a little seeing the little boy who'd been so defiant before suddenly unsure of himself. "No, Edmund, I'm not marrying your papa just to be queen. You see, sometimes, people get very lonely by themselves. Don't you ever get lonely?"

Shaking his head, he replied," I'm never lonely. I have Joanna. We both had Mary but she had to go away to become an Empress. Joanna promised she'd never go away." They'd both cried the night before Mary left, pleading with her not to go. She'd calmly sat them down and explained that it was her duty to go, just as it would someday be Edmund's to become the king. That wouldn't be for a very long time, she'd hastened to add, seeing her siblings almost in tears again at the thought of losing their father. Joanna had defiantly sworn that she would never leave her brother, not for anything which had made Mary smile in a sad way before putting them both to bed.

"Someday, she might," Anne told him solemnly," she might want to marry and become a mama."

"No! She can't," Edmund burst out, horrified with the very idea. "That was how our mama died, she can't become a mama. Don't you see? That's why you can't be my mama, because my mama died and if you become my mama, something will happen to you too!" With a strangled sob, he turned and ran from the room, nearly bowling his father over in the process.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Henry asked, noting how Anne was nearly in tears and Edmund had run away. "What is the matter?"

"You must speak with Edmund, Henry," she told him as she wiped tears from her face. God, how it broke her heart to see the young prince so terrified of losing another mother. Would that have been how she would have acted, had her father remarried?

"What did he say? Did he upset you?" he demanded, striding over and gently grasping her arms, staring down into her tear-filled eyes.

"No, he didn't upset me. He's scared, don't you see? You lost your wife but he lost his mother. Don't you remember what it was like to lose your mother?" Anne asked, blinking back fresh tears. She'd been too young to remember her mother much like the young prince and princess, but her elder siblings knew and would recall fond memories of her to Anne. "He believes by accepting me as his new mother, something will happen to me and he'll lose another mother."

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Joanna looked up from her dolls as her papa entered the room. "Hullo, Papa," she greeted, rushing over as he bent down to sweep her up in his arms.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted, kissing her on the cheek. "Did you like your visit with Lady Anne?"

"Yes, she'll do," she agreed with a nod, throwing her arms about his neck and hugging him.

Henry had to laugh. "She'll do, huh?" He questioned, bouncing his little girl in his arms. Memories of doing this with Mary were bittersweet now, but he still had one little princess to spoil. Mary would always be the pearl of his world, but sweet Joanna was his little queen of hearts. "Now, where is that brother of yours?"

"I don't think he likes the idea of a step-mama, papa," she told him seriously, cuddling close and laying her head on his shoulder. "He doesn't want to lose another mama, like we lost ours."

Katherine. Her name still caused a deep ache inside him. He freely admitted he hadn't always been the best husband to her, but when she'd died giving him his precious boy, something inside him had nearly died with her that day. He knew she'd want him to eventually stop mourning her, but it had been so difficult. For the first few years of their lives, he'd been unable to bring himself to so much as gaze upon his twins, the knowledge of Katherine's loss for their lives weighing heavily. Then, the day of the masque where he'd met Anne, what he'd thought had died with Katherine had sparked suddenly back to life. Even still, whenever he gazed at his betrothed, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at the knowledge that she would soon be his. "Nothing is going to happen to Lady Anne," he told her comfortingly, rubbing her back in small circles.

"You promise?" the small voice of his son caused him to turn around. Edmund stood in the door way between their playroom and bedroom, chewing slightly on his lower lip.

"Come here, Edmund," Henry told him, kneeling down with Joanna still in his arms. The boy hesitated briefly before running over to his side, burying his face in Henry's doublet. Wrapping his other arm around his son, he told him, "Nothing is going to happen to her if you call her your mama, alright Edmund? I won't let it."


	10. Chapter Nine

Author's Notes - Yes, I know, it's been forever and a day! I'm not dead, see? Just been busier than ever. I'm kinda stuck on Definition of Love, that's why I'm updating this one first. This chapter jumps ahead about a year after Henry and Anne marry. As always, thank you to my wonderful reviewers and everyone who has favorited me or my stories. I love you guys and gals!

When Anne comes to him, all smiles and bursting with excitement, Henry can't help the dark cloud of dread that forms in his gut. The Lord admonished everyone to be fruitful and multiply, but Henry didn't know if he could go through this again. He knows he's just staring at Anne blankly by her facial expression dimming, the excited glow leaving her eyes. He can't even bring himself to be happy about the fact that he has a child growing within Anne's womb, not even for her. The image of his beloved Spanish princess, laid out pale and cold, comes to him and it's all he can do to not cry out for her. She'd given him his boy, but the price they'd paid for him sometimes seemed far too much. When Anne curtsies and leaves, he is completely unaware, lost to his own demons.

Damn, damn, damn! Anne scrubbed furiously at her eyes, trying her best to stave off the flow of tears even now threatening to overcome her. She'd been deliriously happy when the doctor and midwife told her she was with child and had rushed right away to see her husband. How had he reacted? By turning into the living dead! Henry had just stared at her and she'd known then and there that he was remembering Katherine and how she'd died after giving birth to Prince Edmund and his sister. She'd begun to think him past this, and had been hoping for some time now that she would become pregnant and show him that he had nothing to fear.

Stopping just before her chambers, she frowned at the ornately carved door. Her ladies would no doubt be sympathetic to her face, but then gossip to themselves as soon as she was out of their presence. No, she sighed to herself, best for her not to go there for the time being, not until she had some control. With no hesitation, she quickly turned and headed to the one place she knew she could have some privacy: the royal nursery.

"Majesty," Lady Salisbury cried out in surprise, hurriedly curtsying in respect as Anne entered the lavish rooms appointed for the royal children.

"Lady Salisbury," Anne greeted in turn, returning the curtsy with a nod and a slight dip of her knees. "I've come to see my step-children."

"Of course, my lady," Salisbury agreed, motioning for the queen to follow," His highness, the prince, is at his archery lesson but should be brought in soon. Her highness, the princess, is at her sewing."

Anne simply nodded, not caring which of the children she got to see first. She'd seen them so rarely since her marriage to the king, even when she'd managed to convince Henry to move them here to London from Hatfield House.

"Princess Joanna? Your lady step-mother is here," Salisbury curtsied briefly before moving aside so Anne could enter the room.

"Mama Anne!" Joanna cried out in delight, tossing her sewing aside to the horror of her lady and Salisbury. Standing up, she grasped her skirts in her hands, running as fast as she could towards Anne.

Unable to hold back her smile, Anne knelt down and opened her arms wide, catching the young girl with practiced ease. "I've missed you so much," she whispered into the girl's ear. Looking up, she caught Salisbury's eye. "Leave us. When the prince is done with his lesson, bring him to me," she ordered, breaking her embrace with Joanna and rising to her feet.

Both ladies curtsied, and with whispered, "Majesties," they both departed, leaving the two alone.

Once sure they were alone, Anne led Joanna over to the seats that had just been recently vacated by the princess and her tutor. "How are you?" Anne asked kindly, settling herself and arranging her skirts just so.

"It's not fair," Joanna promptly returned, pouting and almost flinging herself into her own seat.

"Joanna!" Anne admonished, eyeing the girl's posture. "That's entirely unladylike. Now, sit up and tell me what's not fair."

With a very put-upon air, Joanna straightened herself up, mimicking Anne's posture. "Edmund gets to do all the fun stuff, while I'm stuck up here doing stupid embroidery." With a sigh, she eyed Anne closely. "Are you okay? Because you don't look okay…"

Twisting her hands in her skirts, Anne forced herself to remain calm. Getting hysterical in front of her step-daughter would only cause the girl to become hysterical right along with her and that would solve nothing. "I received some very good news but your papa didn't take it like I hoped."

"Tell me! I want to know what it was!" the princess burst out, bouncing slightly in place. "Are you getting a new pony?"

Anne laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, sweetheart, I'm not getting a new pony. You and Edmund are getting something, however."

"We are? What is it?" she asked, eyes going wide at the prospect of getting something new. They were royalty and could get anything they wanted, but as with all children, the thought of receiving something new was exciting.

"Well… within the year, soon you and Edmund will have a new baby brother or sister," Anne explained gently, one hand going to her still flat stomach.

Joanna was almost a carbon copy of Katherine, but she was definitely her father's daughter. The princess just sat there, staring at Anne as though she was waiting for the punch line of a joke. "Does… this mean you're going to go away too?" she finally asked softly. "Because mama went away…"

"No, baby, no," Anne soothed, instantly on her knees before Joanna's chair. "Nothing's going to happen to me, you'll see," she promised, gathering the girl in her arms and rocking her gently. "Everything will be alright," she said, sending up a silent prayer that everything, would indeed, be alright.


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